


There's more than one way to save the Universe

by I_am_a_Cephalopod



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Tags to be added, space dads get a kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Cephalopod/pseuds/I_am_a_Cephalopod
Summary: They were fighting a war. This was no time to adopt a traumatized kid as their own.Too bad Chirrut almost never listens.





	1. Foundling

4 ABY

 

* * *

 

Baze hated days like this, where the only thing they could do was search for survivors and hope that they could help in some small way. Wars were fought by political powers and armies, but civilians were who felt it the most. Cities destroyed, families broken, lives cut short. It all reminded him of his home, of Jedha, and how it had been collateral in the Empire’s search for power.

It hurt Chirrut too, he knew that, knew his husband felt the suffering of everyone so deeply. It was one of the reasons why Baze kept volunteering for rescue missions, because he knew Chirrut wanted to help, and he’d go anywhere the other man went. “I go where he goes” had become his personal motto during the war, and he only regretted it twice a week. Chirrut had a knack for wandering into fights he couldn’t quite win.

Speaking of his wandering husband, Baze turned to check that he was still next to him.

He wasn’t.

Heaving a long suffering sigh and wondering, not for the first time, why he had married this troublesome monk, Baze spun on his heel and backtracked. Most of the buildings in the area had been demolished or burned down, the smell of burning and rotting flesh filling the air. A soft breeze picked up, whipping the sand at his feet up and playing with it, reminding Baze of Jedha even more. There was only one structure even remotely standing, and Baze bet himself that that’s where his wayward monk had gotten off to.

Keeping his blaster ready, in case there were any straggling storm troopers, Baze entered the building through the crumbling doorway. It had clearly been a house, at one time decorated with trinkets and paraphernalia like any family would have. Now, though, nothing was in its proper place, and all was covered in a thin layer of dust and sand. Rubble from the fallen ceiling blocked Baze’s path, and he sent up a prayer that Chirrut hadn’t hurt himself while navigating it. The blind man could hold his own in a fight, but he was surprisingly clumsy when his life wasn’t on the line. That, or he just liked to fall so Baze would catch him (he wouldn’t put it past his husband, the little imp).

He moved deeper into the house, wishing for more light to see by. The moon shining through the open roof only did so much, and he found himself relying more on his hearing than anything else. Faintly he could hear soft speaking down the hallway, and he followed it into what looked like a child’s room. The room would have been peaceful, if not for the two bodies on the floor, and of course this is where Chirrut was.

“Chirrut, what have I said about wandering off?” Baze growled, carefully stepping over the corpses to reach his husband. There was a small whimper, and Chirrut held up his hand, stopping Baze in his tracks.

“The most tender people are not always the softest spoken,” he murmured, turning back to the closet that he had been inspecting. Baze huffed, annoyed by his cryptic husband, but he lowered his voice before speaking again.

“Why are we here?” He didn’t move forward, but he did shift to see around the other man, and answered his own question. In the closet sat a small child, whimpering and scared. Her shocking white hair was a mess, and tear tracks stained her bright red face. She was one of the locals, the desert dwellers that had been caught in the fight, and by the look of things it was her parents he had stepped over to get in.

“I got lost,” Chirrut said, his usual perk only a bit forced. “I was hoping this young lady could help me find my way. A poor blind man shouldn’t be alone.” He was lying, Baze knew it, the girl probably knew it too, but it seemed to be doing its job. His had was outstretched, relaxed but waiting, not close enough to threaten the girl but close enough that she could reach out and grab it if she wanted.

“Momma said not to go with strangers,” the girl whispered, her voice tiny and her accent thick.

“A wise woman,” Baze praised, moving to try and black the girl’s view of the rest of the room. She shied away more when he walked closer, and he realized what picture he must make. A large burly man with an even larger gun, as opposed to the picture of innocence and kindness that Chirrut made. So he shucked his blaster, setting it gently on the floor before crouching to get more on her level. No point in spooking the poor thing more than needed.

“My name is Chirrut Îmwe, this is my friend Baze Malbus. We’re with the Alliance, and we’re here to help,” Chirrut soothed, trying his best to make eye contact but ultimately staring blankly at the girl’s large poof of hair. “What’s your name?”

“Derra Arana,” the girl supplied after some hesitation. Chirrut’s face split into a wide smile, melting Baze’s heart just at the sight of it (after all these years, he was still hopelessly in love with the other man).

“Well Derra, now we aren’t strangers, are we?” She seemed to think about it, before shaking her head, not that Chirrut could tell, but still she stayed where she was, hugging her knees to her chest. Silence stretched, and Chirrut’s smile was fading slightly, until all was broken by a loud gurgle. The girl’s red face somehow managed to flush, even in the dim light, and Baze couldn’t help a little smirk.

“We can get you some food,” he offered softly, trying to remember if he had anything on him. Unfortunately, Chirrut had eaten it all before they had even touched down on the planet, before pretending that Baze had never even packed the fruit and nuts in the first place.

That seemed to be the tipping point, and Derra put her small hand in Chirrut’s. He helped her to her feet, and plucked her up into his arms with no protest. Tucking her into his robes, he turned her face into his neck, shielding her from the view of her room.

“Do not look small one,” he advised, and then he was walking out, trusting Baze to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first try with the Rouge One characters. I hope you guys like it, because I plan to go on with this for a while. Like, story all the way until The Force Awakens while. I have some shit planned.
> 
> Stay tuned, hopefully I'll be able to update this pretty regularly. I shall try my best!
> 
> As always, kudos are love, comments are motivation


	2. Little Helper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baze isn't entirely sure that taking care of a small child is the best idea.

The girl refused to let go of Chirrut after that. In the hastily set up med tent she had clung to him, silently allowing the medic to look over her. The only time she put up a fight was when Chirrut had tried to set her down at the beginning, and after that he hadn’t even tried.

Aside from dehydration and hunger, Derra was in perfect health, with only a few small scrapes and bruises to show for the battle that had raged two days before. How she fared mentally, though, was harder to tell. Two days in a small closet, her parents rotting just outside the doors, would have a large impact, Baze knew, and he hoped that whoever ended up taking care of her knew what they were doing.

After that the three scouted out food, getting little Derra some soup and noodles. She sat on Chirrut’s lap as she ate, and he told stories of climbing trees and picking apples when he was young. Baze idling listened, smiling to himself when Chirrut exaggerated or told outright lies (Baze had never chased Chirrut up a tree, and Baze never fell out of said tree while trying to catch him, thank you very much).

While still quiet, the girl seemed to calm as Chirrut continued his story, offering small smiles into her spoon. She was so small, no more than three years old Baze would guess, and it seemed wrong that such a young child would be so still, so silent. She had the face of someone who was meant to be happy, big cheeks just meant to dimple when she smiled, and wide, curious eyes that should be lighting up with all this new information.

Shortly after she had finished, she fell asleep, slumped against Chirrut’s chest. That’s how they got here, sitting in a quiet corner of the rescue transport, with Derra’s soft breathing filling up their space. The noises of the other people and the engine’s hum were only background noise, and Baze felt himself lulling into a light meditation.

He was glad to be off that planet, away from the carnage, but he was surprised that Chirrut had left before the work was done. Usually his husband was the first one on a rescue mission and the last to leave, but this girl seemed to be more important than all that. So she was important to him too, and he’d do what he could to help find her a good family.

Chirrut’s hand found its way into his own, and Baze squeezed it lightly, sighing as some of the tension of the day seemed to fade away. Chirrut also seemed to pull comfort from the contact, relaxing more in his seat. His other hand rested protectively on the girl’s back, rubbing soothing circles every time she stirred even slightly. Baze could imagine what life might have been like if the war had never happened, if Jedha had never been occupied. He remembered how much Chirrut loved working with the children at the orphanage, and wondered not for the first time if Chirrut wanted to be a father.

He probably did.

But now wasn’t the time to think about starting families. Despite the fact that Darth Vader was gone and the Empire was weakening, no one could predict when the war would end. Nothing was truly known, though Chirrut always advised to trust in the Force, and Baze couldn’t imagine raising a child in the uncertainty of fighting a war.

“When we get back,” Baze murmured, breaking their silence, “I’ll go see what I can do to find someone to take care of her.”

“Or we could just keep her,” Chirrut commented nonchalantly. Baze couldn’t help but role his eyes, knowing an argument was coming up.

“Chirrut, we’re soldiers for the Rebel Alliance. Our lives are in danger every day, and we can’t guarantee that we will survive this war. That’s no way to raise a child,” Baze pointed out.

“There is never a guarantee that anyone will even see tomorrow,” Chirrut said sagely, seeming calm about the morbid sentence that just popped out of his mouth. “Better to do what we can while we live than not for fear of dying.”

“This isn’t up for debate, love. We don’t have the resources to care for a toddler.”

“Sure we do. We even have an abundance of baby sitters at our disposal.”

“Chirrut, please. We can’t.”

Chirrut remained silent after that, giving up the argument, not necessarily brooding but close enough. Perhaps plotting was the better word for it, because Baze had never known Chirrut to give up so fast on something he’d put his mind to. There would be more fight later, he was sure of it, but for the moment he could rest easy. Their hands were still interlocked, telling him that his husband wasn’t truly mad at this point, and he would take all the little gifts he was given.

When the shuttle landed on the outpost at Neitov it was local night time. Baze and his husband waited patiently for the refugees to stream off of the shuttle before disembarking and heading for the quarters they had been given, Derra sound asleep. They wouldn’t be here for long, already being called back to the sad excuse of a planet called 5251977. It would be best to find the girl a family here, or at least someone who could look more than they could.

The quarters they had been given were small and sparsely furnished. The first thing Baze had done was shove the two small beds together, leaving a relatively large open space on one side of the room. Chirrut gently set the girl down on his side of the bed, running a hand over the mop of blonde hair she sported. The tender look on his face almost broke Baze’s resolve to give the girl away.

“I’ll go see who I can find to take her,” Baze offered turning to leave after dropping his blaster.

“You need to clean the sand from your blaster. I’ll go,” Chirrut offered, sweeping out of the room before Baze could argue.

He doubted this would end well, but it was too late to argue.

He retrieved his cleaning kit from where he had quickly stored it under the bed, and spread everything out on the floor. The routine came easy to him, a form of moving meditation, and he was lost in the process before long. It was safe to do so, in the middle of a rebel outpost, in a locked room. He gets lost in working over his blaster, and only starts out of it when he blindly reaches for his brush and it’s not there.

Slightly startled, he glances down to search for it, and was met by shining purple eyes. Derra knelt on the covers next to him, her face calm and her tiny hands holding out the brush he had been looking for. Surprised, he took the brush from her hand, murmuring a thanks and returning to his cleaning. He hoped she’d just fall back asleep, but when he reached down for his rag, it was once again grasped between tiny hands.

“You’re observant,” Baze commented, once again taking the tool from the girl. She gave a small smile, and to Baze’s surprise and alarm she scooted closer, burying her curly head between his arm and his body. In this position she had a perfect view of his work, and when she didn’t move away he returned to his work.

As he continued to work, Derra held each tool for him, wide eyes watching as he worked with the curiosity that he had seen earlier. Soon, he was narrating what he was doing for her benefit, explaining each step in the process and each part of his blaster. It wasn’t much different than when he would describe things for Chirrut, the child reaching out for every part and quietly trying to repeat each word. She stumbled over most of them, but the look of concentration on her face was endearing enough that he could overlook her mistakes.

When he finished cleaning, Derra almost look disappointed. She let him get up to store his blaster (someplace she couldn’t reach and Chirrut wouldn’t trip over), but as soon as he sat back down she had cuddled up to him again. He adjusted for her, leaning against some pillow’s he’d propped up and letting her rest in the crook of his arm. All set to doze until Chirrut returned, his plans were ruined by one word.

“Story?”

He glanced down at her, ready to say no and just nap, but the hopeful look on her face was impossible to resist. Damn him and the soft spot in his heart for puppy dog eyes.

“I’m not a good story teller,” he tried, but it seemed that only made her more interested in whatever story he’d have to tell. Sighing in defeat, he racked his brain for an age appropriate story, unfortunately everything that popped into his head was from his own violent life. Not something to tell a three-year-old.

So he followed Chirrut’s example, and told a story from his childhood, following around his future husband trying to keep him out of trouble. This particular memory had Chirrut trying to adopt a mangy mongrel that had been making a fuss in the market. The thing had tried to bite Baze’s hand off when Chirrut showed him off, but the damn thing loved the blind kid. Unfortunately, (or fortunately for Baze) Chirrut wasn’t allowed to keep the dog in the temple, but every time he left, the dog would follow him around.

Derra giggled at the story of Chirrut’s antics, burying her face in Baze’s side. He smiled down at her, feeling a strange sense of rightness flowing over him. This little girl had been through so much pain, but somehow, she was still able to laugh. Such resilience was hard to find in anyone, let alone a three-year-old.

Halfway into his second story, one where Chirrut tried to make it from the temple to the center of the market by rooftop alone, the man in question walked back in. He huffed a laugh at the story, and confidently moved to perch on the bed next to Baze, dropping a kiss on his husband’s temple.

“I found someone who can take her until they find a permanent family,” he said softly, hoping Derra wouldn’t hear. Baze felt his stomach drop, and a fierce wave of protectiveness washed over him.

“Tell them there’s no need, we’re keeping her,” he grunted, pulling the little girl closer to his side. The grin that split Chirrut’s face looked like it hurt, and he leaned in to kiss Baze’s temple again, missing and planting the kiss on his forehead instead. “We’ll need to requisition a bed for her,” Baze pointed out, making a mental list of everything they’d need.

“Already done,” Chirrut said cheekily, before whirling off to the ‘fresher, leaving his disbelieving husband behind.

“You… You!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Second chapter everyone!
> 
> I'm going to try and update this fic every Sunday, but I reserve the right to let school take precedence. My education is important.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter, Derra gets to meet the rest of the Rogue crew!
> 
> As always, kudos are love, comments are motivation.
> 
> **edit, hey guys, sorry no update this week, school and life have run me over. But I plan on having more up next week. See you then.


	3. The first night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baze and Chirrut find the first issue with adopting a traumatized child.

The first night tested Baze’s resolve to be a parent.

After spending the rest of the day sorting out what they’d need to adopt her, the two men retired to their room, Chirrut ecstatic about the new turn their lives had taken. They tried to make a small bed in the corner for Derra out of spare blankets and pillows they had managed to scrounge up, but she refused to stay put. After she climbed into their bed for the fifth time, Baze decided to give up. If Chirrut wanted to keep pushing the issue, Baze would let him, but he just wanted to sleep.

Eventually they settled down with Derra between them. With a thumb in her mouth and her other hand twirling Baze’s hair, she finally fell asleep again. Chirrut’s hands idly stroked over Derra’s mass of curls, a serene smile on his face, and Baze doubted he had ever seen Chirrut this content. Even though they had only officially agreed to become parents a few hours earlier, parenthood fit well on his husband.

Chirrut fell asleep next, hand still lightly resting on Derra’s head, and all Baze could seem to do was watch the two of them, both so serene in sleep. He found himself thinking about this being how things would go for the rest of his life, living happily with his husband and their new child, and he let himself believe that they could all be happy for a moment.

Just as he was about to doze off himself, he forced his eyes open one last time, just to try and memorize the moment. That’s when he noticed it, the creases on Derra’s face, the strain she suddenly seemed to have. Reaching out, he tried to sooth the strain from her tiny forehead, but she flinched back from his touch, waking Chirrut in the process.

That was when she began tossing and turning, tears streaming down her face, her small mouth opening in a soundless wail of despair. Baze first worked at untangling her hand from his hair, which she was fighting against like some monster (which hurt, but he didn’t really care at the moment). As soon as she released her grip from his hair, her eyes shot open, and the wail finally escaped her throat, coming out shrill and anguished.

“Mira!” she cried, her voice wavering and her tiny fists coming up to rub uselessly at her eyes. “Prye!” she called, searching the room frantically. Before either man could react, she started crawling towards the end of the bed, calling out those two words over and over.

Chirrut reacted first, sweeping Derra into his arms and holding her close to his chest. He began pacing the room back and forth, bouncing the child and shushing her, whispering that everything was ok, that she was safe and it was just a dream. But it didn’t help, and she kept wailing those two words, trying her best to get away from Chirrut and continue searching the room.

“What is she saying?” Chirrut asked, sounding as lost as Baze felt. Baze scrambled for a data pad, trying to find the translator and setting it to Kirri, the language of her people. They were simple enough words, and Baze honestly felt a bit stupid for not just guessing what they meant in the first place.

“She’s calling for her mother and father,” he sighed, knowing that there would be next to no way to sooth her from the loss of her parents. Chirrut made a pained face, and continued pacing the room, gently bouncing her.

The rest of the night went just as well. Every time she dozed off and Chirrut tried to put her back down, she’d wake again, calling out for her parents. The two of them switched off who tried to soothe her, and by the time she settled down and stayed settled, it was two hours until morning, and three hours until they were due on a transport to planet 5251977.

Luckily the two of them were used to not sleeping, and Baze gave up on even trying. Instead he went about packing the few things that they had brought with them for the relatively short mission. Chirrut sat meditating, trying to get some rest without actually falling asleep.

“Welcome to life as a parent,” Baze said dryly.

“Hush, I’m busy,” Chirrut chided.

“Ah yes, busy sitting doing nothing.” Baze tossed an old shirt at Chirrut. It wrapped around his head, and Chirrut pulled it away to send an annoyed look in Baze’s general direction.

“I do believe that was my line. And your response was always ‘Finding peace isn’t doing nothing’. So, I’ll refer you to yourself.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” Baze warned, but dropped a kiss to his husband’s forehead. Chirrut grinned before settling back down, and Baze left him alone to continue.

When it was time to go to the transport, Derra woke with no issues, seeming as if the night hadn’t been a trial of patients for all of them. She happily followed them through the base to the transport, munching on the apple that Chirrut had handed her (it was honestly more of a distraction than an actual attempt at feeding her since she could only take small bites). With sticky hands, she reached for just about everything and Chirrut put his staff to good use corralling the little girl.

Baze was relieved when they got on the transport and could keep Derra in a smaller space. It was much easier to keep track of her when they weren’t in the middle of an active Rebel outpost. He dreaded to think how difficult it was going to be on base, but at least then they had friends to help out.

And wouldn’t they all be so surprised when Chirrut and Baze showed up with a daughter of all things. Life was definitely about to get more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry I didn't upload last week, and I'm also sorry I lied about them meeting the rest of Rogue One this chapter, and I'm also sorry this chapter is so short. I've had two papers, an exam, and a presentation over the past two weeks, so I've been flooded with work. But, at least there's a new chapter, right?
> 
> As always, kudos are love, comments are motivation.


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